


Psychiatry, Weddings, and Addled Love

by Shlomo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dating, Female Homosexuality, Homophobia, Male Homosexuality, Muggles, Multi, Politics, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shlomo/pseuds/Shlomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the final defeat of Lord Voldemort, Harry and Ginny are about to tie the knot. For some reason, Astoria Greengrass wants Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Ron to attend her wedding to Draco Malfoy at Malfoy Manor. And when Charlie Weasley isn't hanging out with Professor McGonagall's niece, he's spending a lot of time at a strange Muggle bar meeting strange Muggle boys.</p><p>This fic will discuss homosexuality in the Wizarding world, and the challenges queer Wizards and Witches will face, as well as politics in the post-Voldemort world. Wizards and Witches dating Muggles will also be addressed (i.e.... first date with a Muggle, etc.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: The Dark Horseman

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. Thanks, J.K. Rowling for letting me borrow this world and all the characters which inhabit it!

Hiram hesitated outside the door of The Dark Horseman, a gay and lesbian bar in a segment of London that had no other gay and lesbian bars. This bar was famous for one thing: a place to meet someone for a one-night stand. One was highly discouraged to try and met anyone for a serious relationship at The Dark Horseman, and perhaps because of the bar’s reputation, very strange people could often be found at The Dark Horseman, looking for someone to have a quick roll in the hay with.  


Well, “quick” might not be the way to describe what these pseudo-relationships were. Word on the street was the most of the people who went to The Dark Horseman wanted someone to talk to, to spend the evening with, culminating in a day-to-week-long affair. Many of the people who were aggressively on the prowl for sex at the Dark Horseman didn’t seem aware of many modern cultural and technological advances; one of the cultural advances that these people at The Dark Horseman seemed to have missed out on was that it was now culturally acceptable to act meanly towards people in bars and still expect them to sleep with you later. They were reported to be chivalrous in an old-fashioned way, buying drinks, having deep conversations, helping people home, kissing them good-bye in the morning…  


It was also reported said that many of these people didn’t know how to use a telephone properly – if they knew what a telephone was, that is. They often were shockingly out of date on current events, sports, or entertainment. Some of them, it was rumored, did not even know what a television was. Hiram had heard rumors that some of these people would get drunk and then begin describing people as “Muggles,” which apparently was some sort of swear word, because at that point the bartender would immediately kick the offender out. They also all seemed to be deeply closeted: they often referred to themselves not as gay, lesbian or queer, but instead used the strange phrase “Addled.” They knew little about gay culture, and they often seemed confused at how to pick up people successfully at a bar. The other slightly unnerving thing was that often these people seemed to know each other – they all seemed to have gone to the same school.  


The general consensus among regulars at the The Dark Horseman was that these people were from an extremely sheltered and anti-gay religious community. Something perhaps like the Amish: a kind of closed-off community where one could become an adult and never have seen a television nor heard the word “gay” mean anything but joyous. Almost all of them seemed to be deeply closeted, as well – they would go to The Dark Horseman, sleep with people, and then return to whatever community they came to, many of them it was assumed returning to a spouse and children.  


Hiram had never been to The Dark Horseman before, but his friend Jennifer had begged him to go. Jennifer liked sleeping with interesting women, and if the rumors were true, these women would certainly be described as interesting. Plus, Jennifer had added, it might be a good idea for Hiram to meet a nice gay boy who came from “a similar background.” By this, Jennifer was referring to the fact that Hiram had grown up in a modern Orthodox Jewish community that he had left after coming out of the closet. Hiram didn’t consider his childhood to have been particularly isolated, but Jennifer (after learning that Hiram had gone exclusively to Jewish schools his whole life, and was not exposed to television in his home) disagreed.  
And he was lonely, Hiram thought while opening the door and walking into the dimly lit pub. And not just for companionship either – he hadn’t had sex for nearly three months after his ex-boyfriend, Noah, had dumped him.  


“Hiram!” Hiram looked to find Jennifer at the bar, waving him over. The Dark Horseman could have been just a normal pub, Hiram reflected, there was no indication that this was a gay bar infamous for its ability to find people a one-night-stand. Except, Hiram noticed with a smile, that two men were making out heavily in a corner.  


“Hello, Jen,” Hiram said while plopping down to the seat next to her. He felt the man next to him size him up, and Hiram felt himself blush slightly as he felt the man’s eyes look him over.  


“How was work today? Are people still flying on British Airways?” Jen asked conversationally, while waving down the bartender and ordering Hiram a lager.  


Hiram worked in the marketing department of British Air.  


“It certainly seems so,” Hiram said, taking a sip of his lager. “All thanks to me, of course. They should really give me a raise.”  


“Do you work with airplanes?” The man next to Hiram asked him suddenly. The man had bright red hair, burns all over his muscular arms, and deep brown eyes. At the moment, his eyes were looking intently into Hiram’s, causing his belly to do a small flip-flop. _God, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, Hiram thought to himself. “Do you work with planes?” is not a very good pick-up line and I’m still getting butterflies._  


“Erm… no, I work in the marketing department for British Airways,” Hiram said.  


“Oh.” The man looked slightly confused for a moment. 

Hiram, remembering that some of these people were supposedly right out of an ascetic community, continued, “So I help design the advertisements for British Airways… I mostly work in print ads, so I communicate with the graphic designers who make the artwork and the layout people, and everything like that,” he said, painfully aware of how stupid he probably sounded.  


The man next to him nodded. Hiram felt uncomfortable. 

Jennifer clasped Hiram on the shoulder and said, loudly for the man next to her to hear, “I’m going to talk to that gorgeous black-haired woman over there. You two continue this fascinating conversation.” As Hiram felt his face go slightly pink, Jennifer hopped down from her barstool to approach a woman with shoulder-length straight black hair wearing a green dress, drinking what appeared to be a glass of Scotch.  


The man next to Hiram smiled broadly at him.  


“That’s a good friend a mine, the one your friend is walking over towards,” he said to Hiram, lowering his voice so neither Jennifer nor the black-haired woman could hear. “Went to school in the same year as her. Name’s Larunda McGonagall. We were prefects together. She’s really clever. Brave, too. Is a niece of a professor of ours, terrifyingly strict woman, but Larunda always knew how to press her buttons during class. She probably spent about a third of her time at school in detention with good old Professor McGonagall.” The man next to Hiram then winked at him before continuing, “And, as far as I understand, the ladies think that she’s a very… ah… generous lover. Your friend has good taste.” The man smiled roguishly at Hiram while finishing his drink. Signaling to the bartender, he ordered two whiskeys, neat, shoving one towards Hiram.  


“Her name’s Jennifer,” Hiram said, “she used to work with me at British Airways but she got fired for accidentally forwarding an obscene email to her boss. Now she writes obscene books.”  


The man across from Hiram smiled at him.  


“So you’re saying she’s the better for being fired?”  


“I’m saying she got her start writing obscene things at British Airways,” Hiram said, taking a sip of the scotch.  


“I’m Charlie Weasley,” the man said, extending his hand. Hiram shook it, noticing both how large his hand was and how many callouses covered it. He suddenly felt very dainty and feminine in comparison.  


“Hiram Maier,” Hiram said. “What do you do?”  


“Wildlife research and protection,” Charlie said easily. “Mostly with hawks and other large birds of prey. But let’s not talk about that, I deal with birds of prey all day long. Let’s talk about airplanes.”  


“Airplanes?” Hiram asked, surprised. “Well, I don’t know that much about them…”  


“Well, have you ever ridden on one?”  


“…Yes, I have. Several times,” Hiram answered, feeling confused.  


“What’s it like?” Charlie asked.  


Hiram stared at him. Charlie burst out laughing.  


“You look good when you look confused,” Charlie said. Hiram felt himself blush slightly harder. “Just tell me what’s the entire plane trip is like,” Charlie continued, turning to Hiram and looking at him squarely and giving Hiram his undivided attention. “Step by step. From arriving at the airplane station to starting to fly, then stopping flying, or whatever. What you do, what it feels like. Everything.” Charlie finished his Scotch in one large swig, and signaled for the bartender to bring over two more. 

“We have all night, Hiram, take your time.”

Hiram felt very tipsy by the time Jennifer and Larunda came over to them.  


“Why, hello, Larunda,” Charlie said, hailing her. “I am learning all about what it feels like to be on an airplane.” Larunda laughed at Charlie, hopping up onto the stool next to Charlie, and indicating that the four of them ought to move to a booth near the back of the bar. Grabbing their drinks, the foursome walked somewhat unsteadily to the booth.  


“Jennifer here is an author,” Larunda said, sitting next to Jennifer. “She writes dirty, depraved books.”  


“Hiram told me that,” Charlie said, winking at Hiram. “He said she got fired from her job for sending a dirty little email to her boss. You’re a filthy girl, huh?”  


Jennifer giggled and nodded. “Yep,” she said seriously, nudging close to Larunda.  


“Tell me what you like most about researching the birds of prey,” Hiram ordered Charlie. “With,” Hiram cried, “as much detail as I just described being on an airplane!”  


Charlie looked at him for a moment. Jennifer began whispering something into Larunda’s ear, Larunda leaned very close to Jennifer and, giggling, put her aim around Jennifer.  


“I like how they look when they fly,” Charlie said seriously, after pausing for a moment. “They look… amazing. So unbelievably powerful. You can tell the kind of power they have just sitting on the ground.. er… or on a tree branch… but you don’t really see them turn into the amazing creatures that they are until they begin flying. And then,” Charlie sighed happily, “they really seem to own the air. The just… flap their wings and sail so unbelievably gracefully. Looking at them like that, you can just feel all of your problems slipping away and leaving just….”  


“A queer sort of peace? Peaceful, but also awe-struck?”  


“Yes,” Charlie said, sounding surprised. “Like that. Almost exactly.”  


“When I was little,” Hiram said, “I loved to go out at night and watch the bats fly around. There were just a huge flock – or herd – I don’t know what you call a lot of bats – in the chimney of the fireplace next to the one I grew up in. When I would look at those bats, I would feel the same way. Partially because bats fly a little oddly – they’re graceful, but kind of awkward at the same time,” – Charlie nodded vigorously that he understood exactly what Hiram was talking about – “but also just because of the sheer size of the herd-pack-thing. It always felt queerly peaceful but unsettling at the same time.”  


“Peaceful yet unsettling,” Charlie murmured, while looking intently at Hiram, “that is a really good way to put it.”  


There was a pause where Charlie continued to strangely look at Hiram while drumming his hands on the rim of his glass, so Hiram asked the most stereotypical question one can ask another human being when trying to get into their pants.  


“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”  


Charlie barked out a short laugh.  


“Oh yes,” Charlie said. “I definitely do. I have five brothers and one sister.” There was a pause where Charlie seemed to wince – a flash of pain went through his face – and then he said, “Four brothers. One passed away about two years ago.”  


“I’m… I’m sorry,” Hiram murmured.  


“It’s all right,” Charlie said seriously. “He died for a good cause. He was a twin… his twin brother isn’t taking it so well... But yes,” Charlie said, obviously trying to leave the topic of his dead brother. “I have a lot of siblings, and I was the second one growing up. So a lot of responsibilities, and it always felt like another baby was showing up throughout my childhood, that sort of thing.”  


“I have five younger sisters,” Hiram offered. “Traditional family. Lots of kids.”  


“Yeah?” Charlie asked.  


“Five girls,” Hiram said, grinning. “I’m the only boy. Getting into the shower in the morning growing up was hellish, let me tell you.”  
After a pause, Hiram continued, “I don’t really see my family anymore.”  


“And why is that?”  


“They don’t like that I’m gay,” Hiram said, taking a big sip of his drink. Hiram could feel Charlie was looking at him intently. Hiram, swallowing the whiskey, realized that he was starting to feel very drunk. Immediately after realizing that he was very drunk, Hiram decided that he wanted to become even drunker.  


“I bet some of my sisters would be all right with seeing me, but I haven’t had much contact with them for the past year.” Hiram finished his drink, and reached over for Jennifer’s half-full glass picking it up. Jennifer was, for the moment, very busy passionately kissing Larunda.  


“I came out to my family two years ago, at a family Yom Kippur break-the-fast,” Hiram continued, taking a much-too-large swig of Jennifer’s whiskey. “Never come out to your family after drinking an entire glass of Manischewitz after not eating or drinking all day. No one wants to hear about your dick and where you like to put it at that moment.”  


“What’s Yom Kippur?” Charlie asked. Hiram choked on his drink.  


“You’ve never heard of Yom Kippur?” Hiram said in disbelief, coughing. “Not even _heard_ of it?” Charlie shook his head.  


“It’s a Jewish holiday. You fast for your sins.” Hiram said, wondering if Charlie would begin to shrink away from him at the word “Jewish” – he had just remembered that supposedly the people who frequent The Dark Horseman came from an intensely Christian background.  
Charlie’s eyes, however, were instead beginning to show some slight traces of recognition.  


“Oh… right,” he said, nodding slightly. “Actually some kids at my school would go home for that holiday, I think. It’s like in the fall, right?”  


“Yeah,” Hiram said. “And you don’t eat or drink all day, all you do is pray, and then at sunset you eat and drink wine with your family and try not to irritate each other too too much.”  


“And you… ‘came out of the closet’, I think is the term, last Yom Kippur?” Charlie asked. Hiram nodded emphatically.  


“Yep. Abba – sorry, my father – just got very silent, but Ima – my mum – burst immediately into tears. So I just walked out, and I haven’t really talked to them since. They haven’t called. My mom sometimes sends emails telling me to come to Shabbat lunches though – because she’s met a very nice Jewish girl that she thinks I would like.”  


“I…haven’t told my parents yet,” Charlie confessed. “I’m afraid my mother will become very upset. She thinks that boys are Addled – erm I mean, I mean– gay because the mother messed up when they were children. I don’t want to put her through that guilt.” Hiram nodded at Charlie, who silently surveyed the entwined and slobbering figures of Larunda and Jennifer across from them.  


“My mum thinks I’m dating Larunda,” Charlie said flatly, looking Hiram straight in the eye.  


“Lots of potential there, for the two of you,” Hiram said, grinning and beginning to giggle slightly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had told anyone about Yom Kippur two years ago and was feeling slightly lightheaded at having told a complete stranger about it.  


Just then the bartender came over and slapped his hand heavily on the table, causing Larunda and Jennifer to break apart.  


“Ouch, Tim,” Larunda said, who had been so startled that she had banged her head against the wall behind her. “Was that really necessary?”  


“Yep,” the bartender said, smiling slyly at Larunda. “Looked like you two needed some encouragement to leave. We’re closed.” He nodded at Charlie. “You or Larunda want to pay? 25% discount if you pay.”  


“What? That’s shum – some loyalty discount,” Hiram asked, sounding drunk and confused.  


“Don’t worry about it,” Charlie said quickly. “Don’t leave. I’ll go pay.” He stood up and wandered over to the bar were Tim was now standing.

“That Muggle boy is drunk, Charlie,” Tim said flatly.  


“Sober enough to realize that 25% is a pretty large discount. It used to be 10%. What’s the deal?” Charlie asked, frowning.  


“The exchange rate on Muggle money is so piss-poor these days, the Galleons are worth that much more to me than the pound notes.” Tim said, glancing over at Hiram. “Want me to put it on your tab?”  


“Sure, that’d be great, Tim. You working at the Three Broomsticks this weekend? I can pay you then.”  


“Charlie, you’re not going to have sex with that Muggle man tonight,” Tim said flatly. “He’s too drunk. These Muggles don’t have a Sobering Potion or Anti-Intoxication Charm, Charlie, you know that. It’s not right to sleep with them when they’re like this.”  


“I know,” Charlie said indignantly. “I’m not going to sleep with him. I’m going to walk him home, but no sex. Promise.” Tim frowned at him.  


“You make sure Larunda doesn’t try anything with that girl when she’s like this, either. I think it’s important for people like you and Larunda to have a place to find Muggles to have fun with,” Tim said gruffly, turning slightly red in the face, “but I won’t have it if people start messing meanly with the Muggles.”  


“What happened?” Charlie asked sharply. “Blaise Zabini hasn’t been back, has he?” Tim shook his head.  


“No, we scared him off really good for that, but I’m still on the lookout for people like that. Told Zabini I had pictures of him with that Muggle he cut up that I would send to his wife and the Ministry if he ever stepped foot in here again.”  


“You have a photo?” Charlie asked, surprised. “Should we send it to the Ministry anyway?”  


Tim shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, Charlie. Zabini didn’t use any magic – just a knife – and the Muggle please-men came after Zabini left and took that Muggle’s statement and he went to the hospital. The please-men have Zabini in their records, not sure if we need to tell the Ministry.  


“Speaking of the Ministry, have you seen this in The Daily Prophet?” Tim, glancing up to make sure that neither Hiram nor Jennifer were looking. Tim gesticulated to a small article in the back of the paper. 

_Review of Muggle Exemption to International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy_

_The Muggle Exemption to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy is under review. Currently, only Muggle spouses, Muggle parents, and Muggle legal guardains of Witches and Wizards may be told of the existence of the Wizarding World. Muggle siblings of Witches and Wizards may only be informed in the existence of the Wizarding world if they are between the ages of 6-17 at the time the Witch of Wizard receives his or her acceptance letter to an accredited Wizarding high school._

_The current legislation includes no provisions for Muggle “stepping-parents” (the Muggle term for one’s parent’s spouse), Muggle “stepping-siblings” (the Muggle term for children of one’s parent’s spouse), or Muggle “stepping-children” (the Muggle term for one’s spouses children by another man or woman). It should be noted that Muggles require words for these unique “family” connections as the rate of divorce, single parentage, and re-marriage are very high in the Muggle world. The International Committee for Muggle and Wizarding Relations will meet and discuss the addition of a specific clause including stepping-family members._

_Additionally, the question of whether or not Addled individuals in so-called “long-term committed relationships” with Muggles ought to be able to tell these Muggles about the Wizarding world. Current Wizarding legislation does not allow individuals of the same sex to marry, although many Muggle communities have instituted “commitment ceremonies.” Most Muggle communities do not provide legal marriage ceremonies for Addled relationships._

_Many are hailing these current discussions as the continued degradation of the Wizarding family unit. Lucius Malfoy, whose son Draco is soon to be married to Witch Weekly supermodel Astoria Greenglass, stated the following:_

_“Wizarding society is built upon the Wizarding family. The Wizarding community will only be as strong as the magic passed down through strong family units. While obviously Witches and Wizards must be permitted to marry Muggles, these two proposed changes suggest something much more insidious and dangerous: the breakdown of the traditional Wizarding family. There should be no stepping-family in the Wizarding community as Wizards should not divorce. Allowing Muggle stepping-children to be told about the Wizarding world appears to be condone divorce, a Muggle invention that has unfortunately seeped into the Wizarding world.”_

_When asked his opinion on the proposed legislation concerning Addled Muggle/Wizard relationships, Malfoy had this to say:_

_“I don’t even want to address that proposition. Addled behavior is a disgusting and dangerous aberration, as it leads our young Wizards and Witches to believe that procreation is not a Wizarding duty. If we do not procreate, we will not continue to exist. Certainly I do not think a depraved Muggle man or woman who sleeps with members of the same sex should be allowed to know about our existence.”_

_While the majority of the Wizarding world is sympathetic with Malfoy’s views, the proposed legislation is currently being drafted with the assistance of many well-known Wizards and Witches, notably including Hermione Granger -- the Muggleborn witch who helped Harry Potter defeat Lord Voldemort three years ago._

 

Charlie looked up at Tim.  


“Why did you show me this? Did you just want to make sure I remember just how terrible Lucius Malfoy is before I walk that amazingly attractive Muggle home?”  


“The last line,” Tim said intently, tapping the paper. “Hermione Granger. You know her!”  


“Not very well,” Charlie said, frowning.  


“Charlie! She’s probably going to become your sister-in-law, if the rumors in _Dumbledore’s Army: Where Are They Now?_ are true!” Tim exclaimed. “She’d be an important person to impress upon how important this issue is for Addled Witches and Wizards. You know that most Addled Wizards and Witches date Muggles, because they feel safer being Addled in the Muggle world than at home!”  


Charlie looked over at the booth, where Hiram was smiling at him goofily.  


“And most meet their partners in this very bar. You see the best and worst of it,” Charlie muttered, half to himself. Tim, however, heard him.  


“You got that right. That tiny little Muggle girl that Padma Patil has been dating for three years threw a drink against the wall the other night. They had this huge row that started when Padma refused to show her pictures of Parvati’s wedding.”  


“I heard about that,” Charlie said, sighing and looking at his feet. “Well, I’d better go. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the drunk Muggles go straight to sleep with some tea and no funny business.”  


“You’re a good one, Charlie,” Tim said, sighing and putting the Daily Prophet away.

Charlie walked towards the table in front of him, where Hiram was still smiling drunkenly at him.  


“You look sad. Don’t be sad,” Hiram said, who needed some help up from his seat. “I do think I need to go home and go to bed, though. I don’t think we should…”  


“I know. Here, why don’t I make sure you get home all right? I really liked talking to you.” Charlie said, starting to lead him out the door.  


“Sounds good,” Hiram said. “But Jennifer needs to come, too. She’s staying at mine tonight. Her roommate… won’t like it if she comes home… sho…so…late…”  


“Okay,” Charlie said, sighing and turning to Larunda and Jennifer, who were both unsteadily getting to their feet. “Come on. We’re going to Hiram’s house to crash.”  


“Wooo!” Jennifer said, looping her arm through Larunda’s and pulling her up. “I’ll make margaritas!”  


“Okay, let’s go,” Charlie said, leading Hiram out the door. He turned around and looked at Larunda.  


“Larunda – no sex. She’s too drunk, you’re too drunk.” Charlie hissed at her, knowing that Jennifer (who was still loudly talking about all the various cocktails she could make at Hiram’s) would not hear.  


“I know! Sheesh, I’m not creepy like Zabini,” Larunda said, looking slightly affronted.

As the four of them walked laughing towards Hiram’s apartment, Charlie helping Hiram weave his way around cracks and bumps in the pavement, Charlie was happy. So happy that he momentarily forgot about the Daily Prophet article and the danger he was supposedly causing to the “traditional Wizarding family unit.”


	2. Chapter Two: Ron's Dream and the Resulting Therapy He Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has had a dream he needs to talk to his therapist, Agnes about. Also, he's very worried about Charlie. He knows one of Charlie's secrets after accidentally finding one of Charlie's Muggle magazines....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. Thanks, J.K. Rowling for letting me borrow the world and characters!

Ron shifted uncomfortably on his seat. Generally he felt very comfortable in the offices of Agnes Oliver’s Therapy and Mental Care for Wizards and Witches. Located in a corner of St. Mungo’s Mental Ward (but accessible, of course, by its own discreet Floo Network Grate) the small room where Agnes met with her clients was bright, airy, and painted almost entirely in soothing pastels. The office was almost exactly unlike Ron’s childhood home.

And Agnes was almost exactly unlike any of the women in Ron’s life. She was undeniably beautiful, with long blonde hair, green eyes, and a wonderful figure – and Ron was a great admirer of beautiful women. But it wasn’t just her looks – she also looked polished, somehow, as if she was the kind of woman who very deliberately and consciously spent a considerable amount of time on her appearance every morning. Spending lots of time in front of a mirror were not favorite recreational activities of his mother, girlfriend, or sister. Even Fleur, Ron’s stunning half-Veela sister-in-law, looked beautiful without looking like she tried to be beautiful: she just categorically was beautiful. Agnes had another leg up on Fleur as well: not only was Agnes beautiful, but she was beautiful and interested in every word Ron said to her. Agnes’s willingness to listen attentively to Ron caused Ron to simultaneously view Agnes as more attractive and less attractive than Fleur at the same time.

While Ron was attracted to Agnes, it didn’t Ron during sessions, it actually placed him more at ease. She was lovely to look at, lovely to talk to, lovely to listen to… Most of all, Agnes’s seemed soothing, vaguely maternal, and competent. Ron’s mother, while caring and maternal, could never really be described as having a soothing effect on anyone. Ron usually felt himself relax immediately upon sitting down on the plush maroon seat. 

Today, however, something troubling was on Ron’s mind.

“Well, Ronald, we have about thirty minutes left in our session today,” Agnes said quietly, finally breaking the silence. “Is there anything in particular you would like to discuss?”

Ron cleared his throat and looked at the floor. 

“Erm,” he said, feeling his neck and his ears getting hot. “Yes…I had a… a dream.”

Ron continued to study the floor.

“Was it sexual?” Agnes finally prompted, after a few more long seconds of silence.

Ron felt his ears and neck go even hotter, and quickly jerked his head up and down in a quick nod.

“Was Hermione in it?” Agnes asked, referring to Ron’s girlfriend of two years.   
Ron shook his head, and then took a long, deep, breath.

“It was with,” Ron began, and then suddenly felt the need to clear his throat several times. “It was with… well…Harry.” Ron said, finally. While he still refused to look Agnes in the eye, saying the name “Harry” did seem to have lifted a proverbial weight off of Ron’s shoulders: he sat up slightly straighter, and looked somewhat defensive and relieved. 

If Agnes was surprised by this revelation, she hid it well. She merely lifted her eyebrows inquisitively, and tilted her head upwards slightly, waiting for Ron to continue.

“I’m not, you know… Addled,” Ron began. “Homosensual, I think is what the Muggles call it.”

“Homosexual,” Agnes corrected, nodding slightly. 

“Yeah… I mean, I’ve never wanted to do anything with boys like… you know, like that…. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with that,” Ron said quickly. “You know. Being Addled. Er… Homo-sexual.”

“Sexual dreams don’t always translate immediately to sexual desire,” Agnes said. “What was happening in the dream?”

“Erm. Well. We were at Gimmauld Place… where Sirius Black lived, you know?” Agnes nodded that she did indeed remember, and Ron continued, “And Harry was in the house crying because he, well, missed Sirius. And I went over to him, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just sort of looked at him. And then I started well… Stroking his hair.”

“Stroking his hair,” Agnes repeated, making a note on the piece of parchment before her. 

“Yes. And… and sort of hugging him. And then I kissed him. And… and then we…”

“Had sex,” Agnes supplied.

“I don’t… we took off each other’s clothes, and… there was a lot of snogging… but that’s all I really remember,” Ron said, pausing slightly before adding, “Then suddenly Harry was gone, and Charlie was there beating me up.”

“Charlie?” Agnes said blankly. “Charlie your brother? The one married to Fleur?”

“No, no, that’s Bill,” Ron corrected. “Charlie’s the one who moved back to England recently to study the dragons,” Ron corrected.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Agnes said, making a note. “You do have a large family,” she said, straightening the notes on her lap. She looked up at Ron, who was staring at her intently.

“Do you think I’m Addled?” he asked seriously. Agnes smiled at him.

“Well, it doesn’t sound like you feel the same kind of attraction you feel towards women to men,” Agnes said. “But ultimately it’s up to you to decide if you think you are Addled or not.

“The more important thing,” Agnes continued, “is to think about how you felt during the dream. How did you feel when you were kissing Harry? What was it like?”

Ron considered this for a moment. He hadn’t previously given much thought about his feelings during the dream, he had instead immediately started worrying instead about his masculinity and if he had any attraction of desire to Harry, or men in general. And worrying anxiously about Charlie.

“I felt… good,” Ron said finally. “It felt good. The kisses were… really soft, nice. Kind of like… kissing a kitten,” Ron said finally, as Agnes’s lips twitched slightly, clearly trying to hide a small smile. 

“It didn’t feel sexually good,” Ron continued, “Not like… excited or anything like that when I’m kissing Hermione or something.

“Kissing Hermione doesn’t feel like you’re kissing a kitten?” Agnes asked, smiling slightly at Ron. Ron grinned back at her.

“Nah, kissing Hermione feels like I’m kissing… a… a woman. I feel… well… powerful. And, well, excited. And… insanely happy.” 

“But weren’t you happy when you were kissing Harry in this dream?” Agnes pressed on.

“Happy to be helping him. It seemed like the right thing to do. Not the… really happy feeling of kissing Hermione,” Ron said, after thinking for a moment. 

“It seemed like you were comforting him more than being sexual with him?” Agnes asked.

“Yes,” Ron said. “It didn’t even bother even though he looked…. He looked… well, good,” Ron continued, blushing slightly. Agnes raised her eyebrows.

“Bother you? Why would that bother you?”

“Well, I… if I think about how good-looking Harry is, I feel a little bit... you know,” Ron lamely trailed off, his eyes not meeting Agnes’s.

“Like what?” Agnes prompted.

“Like I’m so unattractive compared to him… like I’m just on borrowed time with Hermione,” Ron said, after a moment’s hesitation. “That she will… will… run off with him, and I’ll of course be a wreck, and I’ll have to take care of Ginny.”

Agnes nodded slowly and wrote something down on the parchment in front of her.

“But in this particular dream, it didn’t bother you that Harry looked attractive? Did he look better in your dream than he looks in real life?”

“What do you mean, he’s an attractive guy in real life, too!” Ron protested. Agnes hid a small smile.

“Even in here, Ron, you defend him. You want to make sure that I know that he is attractive. Even though that his attractiveness intensely bothers you, and has intensely bothered you in the past. It reminds me, in fact, of when –“

“The Horcrux,” Ron cut her off, frowning and slumping slightly in his chair. “You’re right. It was similar to the images I would see in my head when I wore the Horcrux. Of Harry and Hermione… having sex.” He looked down at his hands. “In those visions, they always looked more beautiful than they are in real life.” He frowned again. “Not that Hermione is bad looking either, she’s much better looking than she thinks she is –“

“Again, Ron, you rush to defend your friend and your girlfriend instead of really focusing on your emotions. What you’re telling me are things I already know. I know that you think Harry is an attractive man, and while I think that you think this, I don’t think it makes you Addled. I also know you find Hermione extraordinarily sexually attractive” -- at this, Ron blushed so deeply his ears could be purple —“but what I don’t know is how you felt during the visions you had while wearing the Horcrux. I know they caused you to want to leave your friends, but we’ve never actually talked about how they made you feel.”

Ron stared at her.

“Well, it’s pretty bloody obvious, isn’t it? I left them at a time when they really needed me! How do you think wearing that Horcrux made me feel?”

Agnes didn’t say anything, just looked at Ron.

“Having those visions of Harry and Hermione together…I felt…. Terrible. I felt jealous, betrayed, ugly, inadequate, and so sad all at once. Hollow. Completely useless. I didn’t know… where I was going, what I should do... I felt like I was completely alone.”

Agnes looked thoughtfully at Ron for a moment before speaking.

“And then,” she said, “the Horcrux encouraged you to put yourself in a position where you were completely alone without knowing where to go or who to turn to. It helped you leave. It became kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Ron gaped at her.

“I guess… I guess that’s true. I never… I never realized it before!”

“And when you were kissing Harry, comforting Harry, in this dream, did you feel rudderless, useless?”

“No, not at all. I knew I was supposed to help Harry feel better, I knew that it was important to him, and I knew that Harry… well, that Harry loved me.” At hearing this, Agnes excitedly wrote something down on the parchment in front of her. 

“Do you think Harry loves you?” Agnes said. “Not in a homosexual, Addled, or romantic way,” she added quickly, after seeing Ron’s expression.

“I… I guess so,” Ron said. “I’m just…. kind of normal, you know?”

“’Kind of normal?’” Agnes repeated. “Wasn’t Harry abused as a child and largely friendless before he met you?”

Ron stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly over.

“I guess I was his first friend,” Ron said, still looking kind of confused. 

“And your family took him in, in a sense, becoming the first family he ever really had,” Agnes continued. “And he’s literally becoming your brother in just a few short weeks.”

“Well that’s just a coincidence, isn’t it?” Ron asked, sounding confused. “That he fell in love with Ginny?” 

Agnes smiled at him. “I can’t say, I’m not Harry nor have I met him. And I’m not insinuating that Harry doesn’t truly love Ginny: from everything you’ve told me about the two of them, they seem like quite the devoted couple. But I’m not surprised that someone with Harry’s background fell in love with the only woman who would allow him to become legally a part of your family, Ron. That was likely an extremely attractive prospect for him.”

Ron thought this over, looking embarrassed.

“So… you think Harry cares about me and my family?” He said finally.

“I think it is very likely that you are extremely important to Harry, and that he loves you very much.” Agnes said firmly.

Ron blushed happily and smiled.

“You’re smiling, Ron – how does this conversation make you feel?” Agnes said, also smiling at him.

“Good! I mean… I like thinking that I’m sort of important to Harry,” Ron said, still smiling. 

Agnes looked at the clock on her wall, where one of the hands was currently pointing to “There Is Something Important You Need To Address and Only Have Fifteen Minutes Left of Session.”

“Ron,” Agnes said, “I think we should talk about your brother Charlie now. Why do you think he was in this dream?”

“Ah,” Ron said, frowning. “I’m kind of… worried about him,” he confessed. “I haven’t told anyone about this, not even Hermione. Wait, maybe I shouldn’t even talk about it here…” Ron trailed off, looking confused for a moment.

“Ron, I can’t tell anyone else anything you say in here, unless I think someone might be a danger to themselves or others,” Agnes reminded her.

“Right… right,” Ron said. He cleared his throat. “Well, the thing is… The day before Fleur’s wedding, my Mom asked me to look for the socks that Bill was going to wear for the wedding because she wanted to make sure they didn’t have any holes in them – the socks, I ask you, why does that even matter? – and so I went into the room Bill and Charlie were sharing. And I went it, and looked in the sock drawer I thought Bill was using, and I found a… a Muggle magazine.” Ron paused, and shot Agnes a look, as if he was afraid of scandalizing her.

“Was it what Muggles call porn? Sexually explicit photographs? Either of naked people or people performing sexual acts?” Agnes asked, her clinical tone chasing away any doubts of Ron’s that he was embarrassing or shocking her.

“Erm… yes. Of men. Only men. And men doing things to each other,” Ron continued. “And I held it, feeling horrified, because Bill was supposed to marry Fleur the next day, and if he liked men, that would be so horrible, and then Charlie walked in. He came in, laughing that Mum sent him in as backup to find the rogue socks. And he looked at me, the magazine, and I knew immediately that it was his, and I had opened the wrong damn sock door.

“It was awful. He looked really uncomfortable, scared almost. Like I had this big power over him. Charlie, who is not scared of dragons and was the Captain of the Quidditch team when he was at Hogwarts! I threw down the magazine and I said, ‘It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone, I promise!’ And his face got all red, and he ran out of the room. 

“The next day, before the wedding, he said he needed my help looking for something else in his room, but he just wanted to talk. He told me that he would kill me if I told Mum or Dad. I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone – well, I guess I’ve told you, now – but he made me promise not even to tell Hermione. He didn’t mention Harry though, which was weird…”

“Maybe Charlie recognized that you turn to Hermione more when dealing with emotional and family issues?” Agnes suggested. Ron stared at her.

“Erm… I guess… I guess I do do that. Anyway, then Charlie told me that he didn’’t think Mum and Dad would let him go to the wedding if they knew. I couldn’t even believe it! Charlie really thought Mum and Dad would care that much – I mean, they both really like Charlie. I mean, Mum would probably be pretty upset, because everyone says it’s the mother’s fault when boys are Addled, but I don’t think she would stop Charlie from going to the wedding… and…. and… I just kind of gawped at him, and then he told me that he hadn’t told anyone. Not even Bill.” Ron took a deep breath, as if the last part of his story was particularly hard to tell. 

“And then he… he asked me if I was ashamed of me.” – Ron’s voice faltered for a little bit – “and I said no and reminded him he was a better Quidditch player than me, Addled or not.”

“How did that make you feel? That Charlie asked you if you were ashamed of him?” Agnes asked, scribbling furiously on her parchment.

“Really… really sad but kind of… pleased at the same time. Charlie was always really outdoorsy, he never spent a lot of time indoors growing up. I never thought he cared about me that much,” Ron said, lamely. 

“He is your brother,” Agnes reminded Ron. Ron nodded slowly.

“Yes, but there are so many of us,” Ron said slowly. “I knew he cared a lot about Bill, and he even got along well with the twins, but I…” Ron shook his head. “I was surprised that he even cared that I knew he was Addled.”

“So, how did you respond to Charlie?” Agnes asked after a moment.

“He smiled at me, and then he…told me that he was proud to have me as a little brother. And that… he said… he thought that Harry and Hermione really needed me.”

“How did that—“ Agnes began, but then Ron cut her off.

“Really good. I blushed and smiled, I think. I mean, no one ever thinks that Harry and Hermione need me, they’re so much smarter than me….” Ron paused for a minute. “I’m really worried about Charlie,” he confessed.

“Why is that?” Agnes asked, looking up from the parchment.

“He’s been hanging around a lot with Larunda McGonagall,” Ron said miserably, looking worried.

“Is she related to Professor McGonagall?” Agnes asked, surprised. “She taught me Transfiguration. She had _children_?” Agnes looked suddenly much less professional, and also aghast – as if thinking what a terrible mother Minerva McGonagall would make.

“No, she’s her niece,” Ron corrected. “She looks kind of like Professor McGonagall, though. When she’s really serious about something she gets this kind of glint in her eye…”

“Anyway,” Agnes said, shaking herself as if to remind herself that this was a session and not a time to reminisce about her days in Transfiguration at Hogwarts, “why does this bother you?”

“Everyone thinks they’re dating. They’ve been friends since school, but not great friends or anything – they were prefects in the same year, you know – but now they’re spending a lot of time together right now – she’s always at The Burrow, you know Charlie’s staying there after moving here from Romania, until he finds a place” – Agnes nodded that she remembered – “and Mum definitely thinks they’re going to get married soon.”

“And why does that bother you?” Agnes asked, looking seriously at Ron.

“Because he shouldn’t be messing up a girl if he’s just going to go mess up a guy later!” Ron said, sounding indignant. “He should find a boy to fool around with! Larunda is going to get hurt, and Charlie won’t be happy either!” 

The clock above on Agnes’s wall started to gently say, “This session has run out of time. Please wrap up all crying, breakdowns, or confessions now and make your way to the lobby.” Agnes sighed as the clock repeated the message over and over, getting slightly louder with each repetition.

“Ron, we do have to end now,” Agnes said loudly yet gently over the increasingly insistent clock. “But I want to impress upon you how important friendship, loyalty, and fidelity are to you. That’s an amazing quality – and one that not everyone has. And remember that you are Charlie’s – ahem – CHARLIE’S ONLY POSSIBLE CONFIDANT ABOUT HIS SEXUALITY. HE MAY WANT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT IT, ABOUT LARUNDA. CONSIDER TALKING TO HIM, BUT DON’T FEEL PRESSURED TO TALK TO HIM IF IT DOESN’T FEEL RIGH—“

“Okay, that was great, see you next week!” Ron shouted hastily after leaping up from his chair, practically running out of the office and shutting the door on the combined racket of Agnes screaming gentle instructions at him and the wail of the clock.

He sighed as the door shut behind him. Adjusting his robes while he walked towards the fireplace in the waiting area of the office, he considered the possibility of talking to Charlie about Larunda. Sighing, Ron tried to put Charlie out of his mind as he headed back to work.


End file.
